


i commit the crime of wasting time

by GalaxyGhosty



Series: The Monster's Darling [19]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Fluff and Smut, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 15:40:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11854620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: AU. “Cry knows we’re going to kill him,” Anti finally opens his eyes, green boring into him. “There’s no way we’re surprising him. All this madness, all this secrecy--and he knows. He knows we’re going to turn on him, Dark. He knows that he’s not walking out of this alive.”





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, it's been a while, huh? 
> 
> Well over a month, I think. I hope by the word count of this part you can see why--this was such a huge chapter to undertake and it's been...a journey, to say the least. This part has had so many ups and downs and I can only hope that it's been worth the wait. I was drastically out of my comfort zone for most of the fic, and if not for some of my friends, this part wouldn't be here, most likely. Cry's downfall has been heavily anticipated and I really hope it's what you guys were looking for. 
> 
> I won't talk too much right now, I know everyone's eager to get back into the world, as am I. I sincerely hope you enjoy the piece that you've been anticipating. That being said, this current edition is loosely edited, so I'll be making periodic edits for the next couple of days, but read with caution.
> 
> Title and lyrics from "Kangaroo Court" by Capital Cities.

| _"I've got my bad luck shoes and every excuse to dance these blues away, ain't coming home, I ain't coming home..."_ |

Anti’s not nervous as he strolls into the clearing, puffing on his cigarette like it’s the only thing that matters to him. It probably is, honestly. Anti has very few things he cares about more than a good smoke. 

He’ll die before he’s sixty, probably, with the way that he treats himself, but Anti finds it very hard to care about this particular fact, especially when the soft rustle ahead of him comes into earshot. 

“If you’re trying to sound scary,” Anti drawls, letting a low waft of smoke out from his lips. “Try again. I used to bed with a monster, you know. Nothing’s scarier than him when he wakes up.” 

“A devil rears his head,” and at that, Anti smiles. Dark’s always been the Monster, but Anti’s always been the Devil. “Hello, Anti. It’s been too long.” 

Anti smiles around his cigarette, his green eyes pinned on the way Cry moves into the clearing, alone, but Anti knows he’s not by himself. He always has a select set of people with him, out of sight, but he can hear them, patiently waiting for him to attack. “On the contrary, I don’t think it’s been long enough, you freak. I really hope you don’t take this meeting as an extension of goodwill. I haven’t got any of that.” 

Cry tilts his head, voice distorter crackling. “You truly are an enigma, Anti. What brings you here?”

“Heard you struck up a partnership with the Monster,” Anti rolls the cigarette between his fingers. “Came to tell you he’s bad news.”

“We’re all bad news,” Cry intones. “What’s your point?” 

Anti wonders if Cry scars the same, the same as Jack. He wonders if cigarette burns look as sickly and disgusting on someone already so twisted. “Dark’s playing you. He’s got no intention of providing you safe passage. He wants you dead.” 

“Of course he does,” Cry murmurs. “I want him dead, too. But that’s the beauty of things, you know? We’re in mutual understanding.”

He offers him a shrug. “I really thought you were smarter. Listen, Dark hasn’t forgiven you for what you did to his pet. He has every intention of killing you the minute he has the opportunity. Which will likely be in a couple days, given the way things are rolling. The moment he gets you in his sights, you’re gonna wind up with a bullet in you. And I, for one, am not entirely thrilled by this opportunity.” 

“I can’t imagine a single reason why you would care,” Cry says. “About whether or not I’m alive. Besides, if I’m not mistaken, you’ve recently joined forces with him.”

Anti does a mental inventory in his head. Based on what Cry’s saying, he knows about Anti’s alliance, and he knows that Dark’s planning something. He has to say something he doesn’t already know, something useful. Licking his lips, Anti drawls out, “I’ve got my own reasons. But I let me tell you this--I loathe that beast. I spent an immeasurable amount of my life with him, and there is no greater joy in this world than for me to see that arrogant man tumble. If you die, I’ll be stuck with him hounding me for the rest of eternity, and that’s not a future I want.” 

“So you’d betray him?” Cry says slowly, gauging his reaction. “Is that right?” 

“Yes,” Anti flicks some of the ashes onto the dirt. “He thinks I’m working with him. That I’m putting our differences aside because you’re a freak and I dislike you. Both of which are true, mind you. He also believes at current that I’m doing this as some sort of misplaced allegiance to him. Some part of him still loves me, and I fully intend to use that to my advantage. So I’m here to offer you a deal in exchange for information.”

Cry pauses, perhaps thoughtful, weighing the information. “You could offer me nothing I don’t already know, or cannot find out.” 

“Oh?” Anti sucks in a breath of the cigarette, soothing his nerves. He doesn’t really get nervous much anymore, but he knows that Jack’s relying on this, this relaying smoothly, and damn if his soft, younger brother doesn’t elicit things within him he’d long forgotten. “Even if I were to tell you that the boy is still in the picture? That he’s part of the operation to burn your organization to the ground? That Dark’s been keeping him under tight lock and key, far away from prying eyes? Is it any wonder you couldn’t find any information on him, looking to back up the story Dark likely told you?”

If he could see Cry’s face, Anti imagines it would’ve been impressed. Anti smiles sweetly. “You’re a smart man, Cry. You’re not stupid enough to pass up this opportunity I’m wonderfully presenting to you. All I’m asking is I get one tiny thing in return.”

“Which is?” Cry rumbles, his voice static. 

“I want you to play him,” Anti says. “I want you to pretend like you know nothing of this exchange between us. I want you to make him believe that he’s the one calling the shots. And then, when everything comes to a head? I want you to ruin him. Destroy everything he’s worked for. Take it. Make it so that the Monster is a distant memory for all of us.” 

He waits. Anti doesn’t hold his breath, doesn’t gnaw on his lip, doesn’t so much as twitch, because he knows that calculating gaze looks for a break in his facade. Anti won’t give it to him. Anti’s been playing this game longer than any of them, and he won’t lose just because his opponent happens to hide behind a mask. 

“I’ll think it over,” Cry says finally, smooth and ashen, and it’s as close to confirmation as he’ll get for now. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Just don’t send your irritating flea,” Anti flicks his cigarette on the ground, stomping it out. “What’s his name, Russ? Nevermind. I don’t care. Either way, you send him, and I can’t guarantee his safe return.”

“That’s no way to treat a prospective business partner,” Cry’s voice reminds him, amused. “Is it, now?” 

Anti snickers. “You’re cute. This isn’t a business operation. This is a deal. And in deals, we don’t have to play nice. So if you don’t like the way I talk, I’ve got tough news for you.” 

Cry is quiet for a moment. Then he repeats, “I’ll be in touch.”

With that, Anti gracefully and mockingly bows, before exiting the clearing. 

~~

Dark’s not a nervous man. But waiting for Anti to arrive back from Cry is as close to nail-biting as he’ll ever get. 

When the other man strolls through the door, he reveals nothing, head held high, but at least he’s not dead, so there’s that. 

He waits for Anti to speak, knowing full and well that he’ll speak when he’s ready. It’s entirely likely there’s not a lot to say right now, or that Cry didn’t buy his story. Dark sincerely hopes that’s not the case--figuring out another plan would be irritating. 

Anti lights a cigarette, taking three puffs of it before leaning against the door of Dark’s office. He knows that he feels Dark’s eyes on him, waiting for an answer with anticipation, fingers itching to pump a trigger into the worthless sack of skin Anti just met with. 

“I enjoyed the show tonight,” Anti begins, and Dark--

Dark hadn’t been expecting that. 

“It showed good posture. I wonder if a repeat will occur. I love it, tell me about it. With you, I may see it. Everything musical, I loved. But soon it ended. That's sad. THE best features were the walls, they were painted. We have little time. Pet Kitty's ears for me. Goodnight, sleep well,” Anti drawls out, without missing a beat. 

With a cautious gaze, Dark stares at him. He narrows his gaze, waiting for the follow up. Waiting for something else. 

“Thank you for coming with me to the show tonight,” Anti says, finally, with ease. 

Dark’s eyes gloss over the room, careful and slow. Grabbing a pen, he murmurs, “I think I misheard you. Come again?” 

Anti’s eyes flicker. “I enjoyed the show tonight. It showed good posture. I wonder if a repeat will occur. The show was great, tell me about it. I hope that with you, I can see it again. My favorite parts were everything musical, but she left so soon. That made me sad. The best features were the walls, they were painted. We have little time. Pet kitty's ears for me. Goodnight, sleep well. Thank you for coming with me to the show tonight.”

He clicks the pen, laying it down gently. “I had a good time. Thank you for inviting me.”

The Devil nods his head, and leaves him to the walls.

Curling his inked hand into a fist, Dark rises from his seat, and exits the office. 

~~

Dark has always known people keep tabs on him. But there’s one place in the world that resists all sorts of communication broadcasting and listening devices, and that’s Jules’ house. One of them, anyway. It serves as more of a safehouse for Dark relaying information he can’t afford to let loose.

Three people in the world know of this house: Jules, Dark, and Anti. 

He knows Anti will be waiting for him there. In the meantime, Dark mulls over the writing on his hand. 

A long time ago, he and Anti had developed a code for speaking to one another in tight security places. Something innocent, in case someone was watching them. The code begins after the phrase, _I enjoyed the show tonight_ , and ends with _thank you for coming with me to the show tonight_. The rest of the words in between seem like nonsense to the common listener, but to Dark and Anti--every fifth word is the one to remember. 

_I will tell you everything soon. The walls have ears._

Dark hopes it’s good news. 

When he strolls into the safehouse, Anti’s already waiting for him there, surprisingly not smoking, sitting in the corner. His head is tilted back against the wall, perhaps in thought, and when Dark locks the door behind him, Anti doesn’t move. 

“I told him about Jack,” Anti murmurs, voice low, as though these walls too are listening. “It was the only way to convince him.” 

A lot of things go through Dark’s mind when he hears those words, most of them rage, some of them discomfort. He knows that Cry hadn’t believed him when he said Jack was no longer in the picture, but now that the suspicion is confirmed, Dark can’t bring himself to think of what he’ll do to Jack if this mission goes south. 

“Did it work?” Dark asks. “Did he buy your lie?”

“Yes,” Anti says. “He’ll be in touch with me. He’s thinking over my proposal, as he puts it, but I think he’s under the impression that I hate you more than him. I painted you as sort of a tyrannical, psycho ex, which he seemed to buy more than anything. But those walls are bugged--get your dog to check it out. I don’t know when he put them in there, or how, because I wasn’t gone for long, but I know when someone’s listening to me. And he’s watching me to see how I play the game.” 

Dark nods. He’s always detested Cry to some extent, but they’d always had a mutual understanding with one another. They didn’t fuck with each other. He never thought he’d be at this point, ready to kill him. 

“Cry knows we’re going to kill him,” Anti finally opens his eyes, green boring into him. “There’s no way we’re surprising him. All this madness, all this secrecy--and he knows. He knows we’re going to turn on him, Dark. He knows that he’s not walking out of this alive.” 

“Then why even bother?” Dark presses, irritated that he’s right. He doesn’t want him to be. He wants Cry to suffer, and if he’s expecting it, he won’t. “Why put on the show? Why humor us? Why let us play him? If you’re so sure, why in the hell would he just willingly let us plan this? Why did you bother to try and convince him that you were shifting sides anyway?” 

Anti’s answering smile is grim. “Because he can, and because he wants you to know that you’ll _never_ be better than him.” 

~~

“I can blackout for exactly seven minutes,” Jules tells him. “If fucking snake over there can plant a device in the building, I can cancel out the power for seven minutes on the dot, no more, no less, before the power reroutes and comes back on.” 

“I’m right here,” Anti drawls out. “Snake is awfully kind of you, Arvid. But yes, I can plant a device, don’t you worry.” 

Jules rolls his eyes, scowling. He’s never liked Anti, ever. Dark doesn’t blame him. Anti’s a goddamn tool when he wants to be, and if this situation weren’t so pressing, Dark’s not sure he’d be here. “It’s as small of a device as I can manage. Basically, you slap it anywhere in that building close to an electrical socket, and I can do the rest. They’re likely to search you for shit when you walk in, just because weirdo doesn’t trust you, but it’s small enough to hide it in your cigarette box if you’re willing to toss one out.”

“A hardship,” Anti rumbles. “But I’ll manage. What of Dark and Jack?” 

“You do _your_ part first,” Jules points. “And then I’ll think about sending in lover boy and his orphan. This whole operation is pointless if you can’t do your job of planting the device.”

“Consider it done,” Anti’s eyes narrow at the implication. “Even if Cry doesn’t contact me, I _will_ get it planted there. Fucking ingrate.”

Jules sneers at him. “Pleb--”

“Can you both stop acting like children for ten fucking seconds?” Dark puts a hand to his head. “Jesus.”

“You talk a lot of smack for someone who fucked a kid,” Jules hums, rummaging through his desk drawer. He throws something Anti’s way, a tiny little device. “Anyway. Just smack it onto anything near an electrical current, weirdo. I’ll do the rest. Like everything else.”

Dark really wants to throttle him. Anti puts a cigarette into his mouth, then drops the device into his pack. “Great. I’ll likely hear from Cry soon, but until then, I’ll be in the shooting range.” 

“Losing your touch?” Dark can’t help but jab at him, and he enjoys the way Anti’s nose scrunches in irritation.

“Just going to brush up on my skills,” he replies coolly, sharply. “In case you can’t see us through to the end.” 

He marches out, and Jules snaps out, “And you told me to stop acting like a child?” 

Dark flips him off. 

~~

Jack’s fiddling with the clip of the handgun when Anti appears.

He knows that it’s Anti from the way he smells, like cigarettes and something else he can’t place. Familiar. Dark smells of cigarettes, too, but he’s always got cologne and linen and alcohol mixed in. Anti just smells like something he can’t place. 

“You’re going to get yourself killed if you take that long to reload a gun,” the other man’s lithe fingers pluck the weapon from his grasp, loading the clip in. “Really. Did Dark not teach you any better?”

“Dark was heavily against me learning anything that may get me killed,” Jack replies, glancing at him as he hands the gun back. “That included learning how to load a gun.”

“Stupid man,” Anti says airily, almost as if in thought. “He should’ve taught you long before this, if he wanted you to survive.” 

“I’m not sure he did,” Jack admits, and already he feels the tremors in his hands again. Shooting the gun after all this time has never gotten any easier. He doesn’t know how he’s going to put a bullet in someone and not be sick. “To tell you the truth.”

“If I didn’t know him, I wouldn’t be sure either,” Anti murmurs. He kicks the back of Jack’s heel, pushing his foot forward. He pushes his arms down a bit, and Jack finds a level of comfort in the new positioning. “Always make sure you’re comfortable when you shoot. Don’t lock your arms or knees. Balance yourself.” 

Leaning in, Anti puts a hand over his, mirroring his grip on the trigger. “And when you shoot...don’t think. Just let it go.” 

There’s something comforting about the way Anti’s hand rests over his. It’s not a romantic gesture, not in the least bit. But when Jack squeezes the trigger, he feels stronger, somehow, and the resounding crack of the shot, the bullet leaving the chamber, feels louder in his ears, sharper in his fingers, but powerful. Jack finds himself thinking that this is one of the few times he’s ever been touched with this level of tenderness. He knows Anti’s as much of a killer as Dark is, perhaps worse, but his voice is calm, soothing. Kind, almost. It’s strange. 

As quick as the moment washes over him, Anti pulls his hands away, removing the feeling with it. Spell broken, Jack straightens his shoulders. “You seem to know a lot.”

“Been around the block a couple of times,” Anti replies, the grin soft but smarmy al the same. “Been playing this game longer than anyone. Even your boy Dark.” 

“I don’t think calling him mine makes any sense,” Jack’s hands are clammy. “If anything, I think he still belongs to you.” 

Anti pauses for a beat. Then, “Dark gave up on me long before you came along. You don’t have to worry about me swooping in to reclaim what’s been yours for a long, long time. I don’t want him back. He’d never come back even if I did.” 

“He loves you,” Jack says gently, not out of malice, out of fact. Perhaps that’s why Dark could never love him. He had room for one, and it lay with Anti. “Always has.”

“You’re mixing up love and adoration,” he tells him. Anti presses a hand between his shoulderblades. “Shoot again.”

Mirroring the instructions from earlier, Jack raises his hands and fires another shot. 

“I’ve known Dark for a majority of my finite life,” Anti’s voice reverberates through his ears. He doesn’t look up at him. “We worked together for a long time, as partners. He said he loved me. But he didn’t. There’s room for exactly one person in that black heart, and I think we both know who it ended up being.” 

“Jules?” Jack tries to laugh, but it doesn’t quite get there. The smile his lips form is welcome, though. It’s been a while. 

Anti graces him with a snort. “Wouldn’t that be something?” 

The moment fades out as a buzzing sound rings to life. Anti seems unphased by the sudden burst out loud noise. Reaching into his pocket, he opens the device, not sparing Jack a single look as he answers, “I really hope you’ve called with good news.”

Jack tenses up. Anti pulls the phone away, putting it onto speaker. He places a finger over his lips, giving an order loud and clear: be quiet. 

“ _It depends on your definition of good news_ ,” and Jack could go the rest of his life without hearing that voice. He suppresses the involuntary shudder, trying to shut it out, but he hears it always, wherever he goes. “ _Color me...interested in your proposal_.” 

“I knew you were at least half intelligent,” Anti drawls out. “Is that all you called for?” 

“ _To the point as always_ ,” Cry says smoothly. Jack bites his lip, not daring to breathe, in case he hears. “ _I called to extend the privilege of meeting with me in my office. Don’t bring anything. I’ll provide whatever you need_.”

“You’ll catch me dead without my gun and smokes,” Anti snaps out. “Anyway. Play me a pretty song and I won’t shoot you in the face.” 

A soft laugh, sickly and disgusting. Jack wants nothing more than to snatch the device out of Anti’s hands and fire a clip into it, shattering it, but that won’t make it go away. 

“ _See you soon, Anti_ ,” Cry tells him, like a promise he has no intention of keeping. “ _Be ready, won’t you?_ ”

Without missing a beat, Anti ends the call. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out another cigarette, lighting it. Taking two puffs, he extends it out to Jack. 

Jack sucks the smoke deep into his lungs, hoping to drown out Cry’s touch, after all this time.

~~

“Would you please,” Jules grouses out, not a request at all, “stop fucking pacing? You’re giving me a fucking headache.” 

Dark makes it a point to pace harder than before. Jules snarls at him, but doesn’t retaliate again, focusing in on his laptop. His partner’s eyes don’t even glance up as Jack steps into the room, exhausted it seems. There’s a heaviness to his shoulders that Dark wishes he could take away, but wishing for things is pointless. It never works. 

He can’t look at him the same way anymore--his eyes glazing over his skin, knowing that underneath his clothes, in his heart, in his brain, there is something that can’t be erased. That wherever Cry has touched him, Dark can never fully scrub away. Jack’s mind will always be tainted, haunted by what he’s seen, what he’s felt--and no amount of death will uproot that sort of fear. 

So much could have been avoided if Dark had just said the fucking words. That hollowness in his eyes wouldn’t be there anymore. The flinching, the vomiting, the fear--it wouldn’t exist, and he’d still be Jack, soft and gentle and everything Dark wants for him. He wouldn’t have even had to mean them, not really--but his tongue has a way of digesting the words before they reach the end of his jaw, and even now he can’t so much as think them without them being dissolved. 

This is his fault, and he knows it, and he’ll do everything to right whatever the fuck is left of their relationship. 

Jack catches him staring. Dark says nothing, instead choosing to raise a brow at his affronted expression, and Jack rolls his eyes.

At least that’s partially normal. 

None of this distracts any of them from the situation at hand--waiting for Anti to return. He’d gone “missing,” hours ago, right into Cry’s hands, Jules’ device tucked carefully away into his cigarette box. If this goes wrong, not only are they out of a plan, but they could very well lose someone vital to the operation.

Dark’s not nervous. He’s never been nervous. If anyone were going to get this done, it’s Anti. He just doesn’t want to risk fucking up at this stage. 

“Have we prepared for the possibility Anti will turn on us?” Jules breaks the impending tension and silence in the room with a curt tone. “Just in case?”

“He’s got no reason to,” Dark replies, leaning against the wall. It’s the only thing he can lean against without Jules getting bitchy. “So not really.”

“Why would he switch sides?” Jack asks, and it’s weird having him in here, actively participating in business discussion. “I thought he hated Cry.”

“He hates me too,” Dark says, and Jules nods. “But again, he’s on our side for a reason.”

Jules looks up at him. “Enough of a reason for him to not pull one over on you for the right price?” 

Remembering that Jules does not know of Anti’s relation to Jack, it’s a fair question. He nods anyway. “Anti and I have already discussed his reasons for joining my cause. They’re incredibly self-serving, so it’s nothing to do with me.” 

“And Cry can’t offer him something to counteract his allegiance to you?” Jules asks. When Dark shoots him a look, he scowls. “Don’t give me that look. All I’m asking if the reason why you’re so bent on trusting him, or at least his word, if his reasons don’t involve you. Because I sure as hell know he’s not doing it because he loves you.” 

Dark sucks in a soft, exasperated breath. Glancing over at Jack, he peels himself off the wall, shifting into Jules’ space. He seems marginally repulsed by this, but he leans down to whisper in his ear, and after a moment, Jules nods.

“Alright,” he says once he digests the information Jack’s looking at them with barely concealed frustration and interest. “We’ll count on him. Tentatively. I really don’t think he’s trustworthy, but to be fair, neither are you.”

“What’s Anti’s reason?” Jack asks, and Dark’s surprised he didn’t ask sooner. “Dark?”

Jules glances up at him. He opens his mouth, but Dark snaps his fingers, silencing him. “Nothing you need to worry about. Your concern is staying alive, and putting a bullet in Cry. Got it?”

Jack scowls in indignation. “So you can tell Jules, but not me? I don’t have the clearance for that sort of thing?”

“You don’t need to know,” Dark replies. “Jules did. He’s a vital part of getting this done, and he needs all of the information in order to get the job done.”

“But I’m not,” Jack finishes. “I’m not vital. You could do this with or without me, and the only reason you’re letting me in here is because I won’t forgive you otherwise.” 

“Must we make everything about the two of us?” Dark has so many things to focus on right now, and he’s really not making it easier. “You’re very important to Anti. I’m on my word to not tell you why.” 

“What good is your word?” Jack snaps, but doesn’t wait for an answer as he turns on his heel and slams the door. 

There’s silence for a heartbeat. Then, “Brat. Makes sense, though. Handle your personal shit better, Grim. Jesus.” 

“For once,” Dark asks, putting a hand to his head. “Stop talking.”

“Never,” Jules replies, his eyes falling on the laptop screen. His expression doesn’t change, but something about him shifts. “Because I think Anti got in.” 

~~

Anti’s been oddly silent since got back.

He’s quiet normally around Dark, unless he’s got a smarmy comment or something bitter to add to the conversation, but he hasn’t so much as made eye contact with him since returning. He reported that the device is planted, and it’s good to go whenever they’re ready, but has tucked himself away from being alone with Dark at any given time. 

Jules had stated if they want to optimize their time, they should move in soon. Cry could find that device at any time and destroy it--or worse, use it to his advantage. Dark’s inclined to agree. 

He finds Anti smoking in the shooting range, firing clip after clip into targets, when he asks, “What pissed you off so bad?”

“I’m imagining it’s your face,” Anti says breezily, not even looking over as he empties another clip. “One bullet for every time you said I love you.”

Empty bullet shells litter the floor. There’s hundreds, maybe. “You’re not even halfway there.”

This, at least, elicits a snort. He still doesn’t make eye contact, loading another round. “We should prepare, soon. It’s not going to be hard. Just the freak and some of his goons. Some security systems. Nothing a couple of bullets can’t solve. Biggest problem is going to be getting through each floor.”

Unexpected, to say the least. “You’re sure?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I weren’t,” Anti drawls. Finally, he glances over, green eyes hard and sharp with something Dark hasn’t seen in a long time. “Dark, I’m only going to tell you this once.”

“I’m listening,” Dark replies, voice even. Anti’s warnings don’t usually come without merit. 

Anti tosses the gun at his feet, clattering in the open room. He doesn’t even glance down at it as his old companion murmurs, “If I weren’t sure before, I’m positive now that Cry know you’re going to kill him. And he’s going to die, one way or another. But he’s not going to do it without creating as much pandemonium, as much chaos as possible. He will do everything he can to ruin everything you have, and you will _not_ be able to stop him.”

In all his years of knowing Anti, he’s never once seen him this emotional. But the threat has yet to come, he knows this. Dark remains stone faced as he anticipates the next words. 

“And I don’t care what happens to you,” Anti says boldly. “You’ve had your run as far as I’m concerned. I don’t want you to die, but your life means less to me than Jack’s. So I’m going to tell you this once. He will not die by Cry’s hands, do you understand me? I refuse to let _my brother_ be murdered by that monster. You will _not_ let him die by Cry’s hands. If everything in this shit show goes to ruin, he will not be killed by Cry. Do I make myself clear?” 

They both know what he means. Dark thinks of all the people he’s killed with his hands, and how many more will come after. A death from Dark, however, is a more merciful one than one from Cry, if the circumstances permit. 

Jack would rather die from Dark’s hands than Cry. And Dark would rather kill him than let Cry touch him again. 

“Crystal,” Dark says, slowly leaning down to pick up the gun. He puts the safety on before tossing it back, which Anti catches with ease. “You don’t need to worry about that.” 

Because he will. He will always take care of Jack, in whatever way is best for him. The emotions that had crossed Anti’s face disappears, his neutral expression returning. He nods once, and he’s back to what’s familiar. 

“Then let’s go kill this son of a bitch,” Anti says, and that’s that.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Believe me, I intend to show you,” Dark warns him, “how much of a monster I am tonight. So let’s stop talking and get this real show on the road, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence.

| _"So I try to save face and I rest my case. The judge pulls me aside, says, "C'est la vie, let your darker side come out to feed..."_ |

“When are you going to stop treating me like a child?” Jack demands.

“When you stop acting like one,” Dark replies. 

This doesn’t seem to curb his anger. Still smarting over not being privy to the information about Anti, it seems. Jack will get over his temporary anger, but Anti’s wrath about that particular lineage will haunt him for the rest of his days. When faced with the two, Dark would much rather keep Anti from holding a grudge than Jack. 

He still can’t wrap his head around the fact that he has, in fact, fucked both brothers, both of which have been a pain in his ass. 

“Do you want me to die?” Jack crosses his arms. “Is that it? You don’t want me to know anything because you want me to fucking die.”

Dark sucks in a breath to keep from shouting. “Me not telling you classified information does not equate me to wanting you to die. In fact, if it makes you feel better, perhaps the only man I’m scared of in the world is Anti. And the information regarding you, he demanded I not tell you, therefore, I will not tell you. Ask him yourself if it bothers you so much.” 

It’s frightening how much he looks like Anti when he’s annoyed. He’d never noticed it before, and now he can’t unsee it. Great. “Jack, you are the last person in the world I want to die. I have gone through numerous precautions to keep you from doing just that. I’m only preparing for the likelihood that you’ll lock up during the operation--entirely possible, mind you. You’re a wildcard as far as I’m concerned. You don’t tick like Anti, you don’t think like Jules, you don’t kill like me. You’re not a criminal, Jack. I’m just preparing for the route that you don’t do what you’re told, since you have such an affinity for not listening to me.”

_Like Anti_ , he almost says, but holds them in. 

Jack presses his lips into a thin line. Then he sighs. “You’re right. I’m not a criminal.” 

A rare occurrence it is when Jack agrees with him. In a way, he understands Jack’s frustration and on-edge behavior. He knows that there’s a lot going on in his own head, because killing one of his largest adversaries doesn’t come without complications, but for Jack, this is life changing. Not to mention he’s still liberally pissed about the situation that, by now, had been months ago. It’s hard to just make the call to kill someone, and then to carry it out is another. Jack’s always hated being out of his element, which begs the question of why he ever got involved with Dark to begin with. 

Still, Dark never thought he’d see the day where Jack willingly agrees with him. He gives a curt nod, exhausted by this situation already, but Jack’s lingering which means he’s got more to say. 

Fantastic.

“What did it feel like?” Jack asks, soft and still in the space between them. “When you killed your first victim?”

Dark chooses to not look up at that. “Messy. Muted. I didn’t think much about it until it was done. My hands didn’t shake. I didn’t throw up. I washed my hands after it was done and moved on.” 

Jack says nothing. Then, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dark affirms, the words slightly too awkward for his mouth. He tries to think of ways to be gentle, knowing what this question is actually about. “You think about all the bad things they did to you. How they hurt you. And you decide that they’ll never do it again. That’s how you get through it.”

If he’s touched by the sincerity, he doesn’t show it. Jack blinks a couple of times, perhaps uncomfortable with Dark’s display of humanity. He can’t understand how that would make him uncomfortable, but he gave up trying to understand Jack years ago. He’s his own and he tries everything possible to throw him for a loop. 

“When the time is right, you’ll know how to do it,” Dark finishes with little finesse. “Even if you’re not a criminal. Everyone has the capacity to be a killer. You just need the right trigger.”

He can’t help but feel like he’s going to regret those words.

~~

There’s an unmistakable urge to either pick Jules up and throw him across the room or cut him a look so deadly he’d collapse on the spot, but neither of those things will be implemented. 

“I think you should leave Jack out of the operation until you’re ready to officially take down Cry,” Jules tells him plainly. “You have so many variables to worry about, and we don’t know how Jack will react to seeing you kill for the first time.”

And that’s true, at the very least. Jack’s never seen anyone get killed, as far as he knows. Anytime Dark does anything work related, Jack’s miles away, sleeping or working or doing whatever it is that he does as a human being out of the crime life. He’s never watched the light leave someone’s eyes, has never been coated in a layer of blood. Even if Cry hurt him, he hasn’t murdered anyone. 

But the thought of leaving Jack on his own doesn’t sit well with him. “Wouldn’t it be better to keep an eye on him?”

“I’m just saying he’ll be more of a liability,” Jules says. “I can guide him into the building after you and Anti clean house. That way, there’s no present danger, and the only thing the kid has to worry about is pumping Freakshow full of lead.” 

Dark sighs, relenting to the point. The one thing he hates in the world is that Jules, however much of a fucking snob he is, usually tells nothing but the truth in these sort of situations. “Where would we keep him until then?”

Rotating his laptop, Jules points at the map of the organization. “Here, probably. After a little studying, I think he’ll be safe there for the most part. I’ll give him an earpiece so he can communicate with me the whole time, and at any point I should be able to pull him if need be, while you and Anti play nice in the facility.”

It’s the smart choice. Besides, even if everyone in the situation knows that Jack is part of this, Dark has to maintain his side of the story. He can’t openly show Jack, even if Cry knows about him at this point. “You keep a damn good eye on him.”

“I’ll make sure lover boy is safe,” Jules simpers dryly. “Jesus Christ, Grim. Ever since you realized you were in love with him, you’re ten times more annoying.”

Dark flexes his fingers. “I never said I felt anything of the sort for him.” 

Jules lets out an exasperated sigh. “For once I agree with Anti--you really are a fucking idiot, aren’t you?”

~~

The car feels like a hot box as Anti puffs on cigarette after cigarette like he’s actually fucking nervous, which Anti never is. 

“Can you at least crack a window?” Dark asks, breathing in the vapor nicotine like it’s replaced all the oxygen. “I’d rather not suffocate before we manage to do this.”

“Please,” Anti drawls out. “You used to set the entire room on fire when we were in a hotel. I thought for the longest time you actually breathed nicotine. Like some sort of disgusting dragon.”

“Is there any chance I can change this mission to killing you instead?” Dark forces himself to not slam on the brake pedal--Anti would go flying, since he never wears the goddamn seat belt. “Honestly?”

Static crackles in his ear. _“You’d better fucking not.”_

Ah, there he is.

Anti snickers. 

_“If you kill him, I will personally carry out your own murder,”_ Jules snaps in his ear. _“Too much goddamn effort to get this motherfucker in the ground. Don’t you dare ruin it because you’re a petty ass bitch.”_

“Couldn’t kill me anyway,” Anti tosses the cigarette stub out of the window, letting the fresh, colder air into the car. “Where’s Jack?” 

He’s not riding with them for obvious reasons. Dark can’t help but let his mind wander back to him, an unfamiliar feeling inside of his chest. He’s not nervous, he’s just--

“Concerned,” Anti fills in for him, as if reading his thoughts. He always did have a way of doing that, finishing Dark’s thoughts for him, not even really knowing what he’d originally been thinking. It’s creepy, frankly. “I’m just concerned about what horrors you’re putting my brother through.”

_“He’s fine,”_ Jules grouses out. _“Won’t stop doing that thousand yard stare, but he’s fine. You do your thing, and I’ll do mine. I’ll move him when you’re ready. Don’t fuck this up. We’ve got one window of opportunity, and I’ll be really irritated if you waste it.”_

“You’re irritated no matter what I do,” Dark tells him. “But I see your point. Trust me, Jules, I want to see his head blown off as much as you do.”

His partner scoffs. _“I’ve no desire to see his head go anywhere. I just want him to stop being a pain in my ass, and in yours, because when he’s a pain in your ass, I have to put up with you.”_

“We’re here,” Anti interrupts, rolling up the window. “Stop the car.” 

Dark glances around. “We’re in the middle of a field, Anti. Did you smoke too much?”

“We have to walk the rest of the way,” Anti’s already grabbing for the door lock. Dark slams on the break, watching Anti grip the handle instead. “Easy there, hotshot.”

“Tuck and roll, bitch,” Dark grumbles. Anti cuts him a scathing glare. “It’s a joke, Anti, relax.”

“Forgive me for not sharing your humor during a trial that could get you, and the one person you and I care about, killed,” Anti snarls out. He sucks in a short breath, shaking his head. “Just get out of the fucking car, Dark, before I turn this mission into your death warrant instead.” 

He hears silence from Jules, and he rolls his eyes. “Seriously? You get mad at me for making death threats, but when Anti does it, it’s okay?”

_“I’m not getting in the middle of this,”_ Jules sounds exasperated. _“This is between the two of you, I’m not getting paid enough to touch it.”_

Dark hops out of the car, following Anti down the road. “I don’t pay you. You take your cut.”

_“No amount of money in the world could convince me to step between you and the Devil.”_

“Smart man,” Anti mutters. “Anyway, follow me. Past the field, there’s a clearing where Cry likes to hang out.”

“And we couldn’t just drive over there?” Dark counters.

“They shoot vehicles on site, we would’ve been dead before we got close,” Anti says. His boots scrunch on the dirt path. “Do you remember the plan?”

Get into the facility. Speak with Cry, if present. Make “friendly,” discuss details. Anti punches the nearest goon, and the power cuts. Seven minutes to clear the first floor out.

They’ve cleared bigger rooms in less time. 

“Do you?” he rebuttals. Anti nods. “Good. We’re in order, then.” 

“And you remember my demand?”

He shoves bright blue eyes out of his mind. “Yes, Anti. Now shut your mouth.”

Anti hums thoughtfully. “So he really did find your one weakness. Interesting.” 

And Dark knows what Anti means by that, but that doesn’t change anything. Dark is still as capable and as dangerous as he’s always been, even if Jack in the picture. 

“Just like old times,” Anti whispers, and damn if that isn’t true as they step towards the organization. 

~~

The facility is as dingier than he would’ve imagined. For the longest time, Cry used that godforsaken warehouse that was filled with tetanus and rabies most likely. He had thought that with all the money he makes from selling people into slavery, he could afford a more upscale place as a major base of operation, but he supposes it makes no difference to him. 

He makes such feelings known. “You know, Cry, I hardly expected you to be a man of class, but I was expecting at least a decent place of dwelling. This looks like a shitstain.” 

If any of the men are fazed by his abrasiveness, they don’t show it. It honestly wouldn’t surprise Dark if they were just as mindless as zombies. 

A crackle and a pop. Cry walks down some rather questionable looking stairs. It takes a lot of energy to not rush forward and strangle him. “Is that anyway to greet your new business partner?”

“Are we business partners, now?” Dark crosses his arms. “To be business partners, I assumed you had to be actively working together. I have no such intention. I intend to profit, so this would better be titled, _an arrangement_.” 

The masked man cocks his head, waving his hand. “Call it what you will. I see you brought your mistress.” 

Anti bares his teeth. “Call me that again and you’re dead.” 

“I hired Anti as my middle man,” Dark informs him. “Just in case you decided to get freaky with me.” 

“And I assume Jules is with you?” Cry asks. “Whispering sweet nothings into your ear, likely mapping out my entire facility as we speak?”

“Wouldn’t I be a fool if he wasn’t?” Dark smirks. “Let’s get this out of the way, Cry. I want you dead. You want me dead. But neither of us are doing that because we’re smarter than that. So let’s cut to the chase, shall we? Let’s discuss how and when you’ll be using my transportation routes.” 

He’s long gotten used to the blankness of the mask. “Very well. As you’ve brought along a guest, I’ve also taken the liberty of bringing along my guest. You remember Russ, don’t you?” 

“Hate him,” Anti says. He’s getting shifty on his feet. It’s probably good punching someone is in the plan, otherwise he may royally fuck it up. “All offense intended.” 

Cry glances at him, then, and Dark knows there’s a tension in the room. It’s heavy between all of them, each knowing what will play out within the next hour. The guards in the room will be dead. Cry will be next, and he knows this. They all know it. 

“I’ve worked out some figures in my office,” Cry says evenly. “If you could follow me, Dark, Anti.” 

Dark takes three steps forward before Anti punches the first guard to the ground. He hears the smack of his head on the concrete, the lights cutting just as he looks, and everything falls into place. 

He hadn’t expected the tussle with the guards to be the hard part. The moment he feels hands on him, Dark presses forward, knocking them off their feet. Whipping his gun out of his belt, he fires off one of the rounds. One by one, each fall, some with snapped necks, other with bullets. His eyes quickly adjust to the shadows, and soon he can make out vague forms, none of which look like Anti, grabbing each one and attacking. Dark swears he hears Anti laughing, but his old partner is as agile as he remembers, not bumping into him once despite the darkness. 

_“Power back on in three...two...one,”_ Jules murmurs, and sure enough, the lights flicker on at his countdown. He turns his head to see Anti popping one last cap into one of the men before he looks up, already flecked with bits of blood. _“Did you get everyone?”_

“Looks like,” Dark says. “On this floor, at least. Can you get me a number on how many are left?” 

Before Jules can answer, Anti trots over to the stairs. “Does it matter? We’re killing them all anyway. As Cry is no longer on these stairs, I’m assuming the bitch to somewhere more secure than here. Doesn’t give a single shit that his men are dead.”

“I wouldn’t care about mine, either,” Dark tells him. “There will always be more.” 

_“I’ve got some heat sensors on the floor above you and below you,”_ Jules interrupts. _“Ten above, six below. Anti, any idea where Cry is?”_

Anti pops another clip into his gun. “If I were to wager a guess, he’s not upstairs in the office. According to your theoretical map, there’s a quarantine area below this floor, beneath the ground. He’s probably got himself locked in there for our final showdown.” 

“Bastard,” Dark begins to head up the stairs. “Alright, I’m guessing we’ll clear the second floor so reinforcements can’t arrive. Security systems? Backup?” 

_“Taken care of,”_ Jules says. _“Which...makes me uneasy. It took hardly anything to hack into the mainframe. Don’t get shot, okay? He was obviously expecting me to do what I do best, and for some reason made it easier.”_

Anti grabs Dark by the arm. “Ten is nothing. You go down for Cry. I’ll join you when I’m done.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he knows Anti’s capable, but splitting up is an idiotic idea at best. “There’s one you against ten fuckers who don’t care if they live or die. We go up there together, we wipe them out, and then we go get him together.”

“Don’t make this a romantic love story, Dark,” Anti narrows his gaze. “It’ll take more time if we go together, and that’s time wasted, and I don’t want him alive for another second more than he has to be. Look at me, I’ll be fine. You know damn well I’ll be fine.”

Dark sighs. “This is what he wants. Weren’t you the one that said he’s expecting this? You heard Jules, he’s already well aware of our plan--he knew before we even got here. What’s us splitting up going to change?”

Anti yanks his arm away, fixing him with a poisonous look. “Get down there.” 

“Are we really going to sit here and argue, glitch?” Dark spits out. “Because you won’t win.”

“I always win,” Anti grouses back. He runs his hands through his messy hair. “This will be done before you even miss me. Unless you’re afraid you can’t handle yourself on your own?”

Dark scowls at him. He shoves Anti hard in the shoulder. “If you get yourself killed I’m telling him everything.” 

“Yet another secret that he’ll undoubtedly hold against you,” Anti smiles, stepping up the stairs. “No mercy. Everyone dies.” 

“Don’t have to tell me that,” and Dark rounds the corner and descends down. 

~~

It’s quiet when he gets downstairs. 

_“So I don’t...know what happened,”_ Jules begins slowly. _“But...there’s only two downstairs, now. I didn’t see anyone exit, so I don’t...know what that means. Proceed with caution.”_

Dark nods, despite being well aware of the fact that Jules can’t see him. He’s already got a pretty good idea about what’s happened beyond this door, but nevertheless, he can never be too careful on missions, especially regarding this freak. 

Mapping out the next play in his head, Cry will probably be across the room. He’s all about shows and theatrics, just like he is to some degree. He’ll be there, waiting, and Russ will likely be behind the door, ready to strike. Cry won’t kill him from the front, but Russ has a trigger finger from hell. Dark’s got a couple scars from that fucker. 

He rests his hand on the doorknob, making sure his gun is locked and loaded before he twists it, tossing the door open hard. It slams back into something behind the door before Dark steps inside, training his gun out in front of him.

And there, splattered with blood, is the man in question. 

“Hello, Dark,” Cry murmurs, gesturing to the open room. Dark takes a moment to skirt over it, and sees four bodies, each with incisions on various parts, presumably dead. “I thought for this exchange, we should be alone.”

Without looking, Dark jerks his head behind him. “Tell that to your mutt.” 

“Anti will be joining us soon,” Cry says easily. “It’s only fair. Russ won’t hurt you, don’t worry. He knows this is between us.” 

“I don’t think you’re surprised by the fact that I don’t, in fact, believe you,” Dark counters. “Get on the ground.”

Cry cocks his head. “I really am impressed by the power outage. I knew about it, of course, but I was so impressed by the procedure I let it slide. You and Anti make a formidable team. Had you two not split, you could’ve ruled the world someday. We could’ve, too.”

Dark rolls his eyes. He steps towards him. “I don’t care about coulds and woulds, Cry. I don’t care about you. And since you seem to know everything, why don’t you lay down and take it, since you know why I’m here? Or don’t. I’ll enjoy it either way.” 

“I remember a time when you weren’t like this,” Cry says. “When you killed for you, only you. Only for money. When you were just a monster.” 

“Believe me, I intend to show you,” Dark warns him, “how much of a monster I am tonight. So let’s stop talking and get this real show on the road, shall we?”

Cry pulls the gun out of his belt, and tosses it away. Dark smiles at him, and he thinks of how long he’s waited for this, all the energy pooling into him. He tosses his own gun to the ground, approaching him, and Cry makes no effort to move. 

He waits for Dark to make the first move. Once, Dark had been told to never attack first. 

Throwing this rule out the window, Dark reaches forward and grabs him by the neck, squeezing tight, Cry’s fingers wrapping around his wrist. 

A beat passes. And then, Dark hums out, “Let’s dance.” 

Using as much force as he can muster, he shoves him back against the wall, pinning him there. Hooking his fingers underneath the mask, he begins to tear at it, feeling the resistance of wires and buckles and whatever else connects it to his face. “I wonder how tough you are without your pretty mask.” 

The cracking beneath his fingers spurns him further, and tossing the offending white material away, Dark gazes upon his opponent for the first time.

Cry’s face is a mess of scars--angry red marks twisting around the skin of his chin, down his throat, gnarling his lips and the sockets of his eyes. Dark can’t imagine a single moment at which it isn’t painful--he looks as though something awful peeled back every inch of skin, a nasty red settling into the hollows of his cheeks, throbbing, almost mocking him. Cry’s eyes are a dusty blue, one eye scrunched shut, presumably forever. 

Dark presses down harder on his throat. “It’s a rare day in hell when someone is as ugly on the outside as on the inside.” 

Pulling his fist back, he ignores Cry’s crooked grin as he slams it hard to into his face. 

The feeling that courses through him when he connects doesn’t begin to encompass the desire he has to ruin what’s left of his face. He gets a familiar burn in his hand from the contact, but he knows it’s the first sting to come, as Cry rolls his head around, taking the punch with grace, squeezing Dark’s wrist harder. Without speaking, he clenches his fingers into a fist of his own, slamming it into Dark’s stomach. 

He releases the hold on Cry’s throat, sucking in a breath of air as Cry steps forward in another punch. Dark ducks to the side, reaching out to grab his arm, twist it, and yank him forward in another hit. In the stun, he punches him again, grabbing him by the hair to jostle him forward, kneeing him in the chest. 

Breathing through the kick, Cry lunges forward, pushing Dark off balance and towards the ground. His head slaps against the concrete, creating a dull ringing in his ears, and from overtop of him, in a swift strike, Cry crashes down on his nose. Dark can taste blood almost immediately, but he doesn’t let it stop him as he pushes up, trying to shift Cry off of him. He’s smaller by far, so in a mess of half-hearted hits and sprawled limbs, Dark pins him to the ground, his hand retaking the spot over his throat, ignoring the scratches from Cry’s nails on his wrist. 

With as much force as he can muster, Dark punches him straight in the mouth, a hot pain washing over his knuckles as he does so. He feels something give beneath his fingers, a snap and a crack, heaving a huge breath as he presses harder on Cry’s neck, relishing in the choked sound he makes. 

“You’re a dead man,” Dark hisses out, voice low, heavy. “You’re weak, Cry. A weak, pathetic _fool_ for ever thinking you could best me.” 

Cry grins at him, and Dark realizes that the giving sensation he felt were his front teeth, no longer there. Blood coats the remaining teeth, his nose dripping as well, down onto his lips, into his mouth. He digs his nails into Dark’s wrist, and despite the pain, he maintains his grip. “Me? You’re the fool. You think for one second I don’t know what this is about? What this is truly about?” 

Dark punches him again. “It’s for trying to play me. It’s for pretending this was a game. There’s room for one monster in this world, and it’s me.” 

His opponent spits up at him, and Dark winces as the blood hits him. “It’s for Jack McLoughlin. For what I did to him. For taking him away from you. For scarring his pretty body, for fucking him. For exploiting the only weakness you have.” 

Jack. Jack. Every flinch, every whimper, every dream--he wants to take them all away, but he knows he can’t. Even here, right now, beating the ever living fuck out of the cause, the catalyst, he can’t take it away. 

Again. Again. He punches him again, landing hit after hit, thinking of every time he’s ever seen Jack crying, broken. For what Cry told him he did at the Black Pond, for taking him to begin with, for perpetrating Jack’s mother’s murder just to get at him, and he knows he can’t take it away, but goddamn it, he’s got nothing else left. 

“I will _never_ let you hurt him again,” Dark seethes, and he feels Cry’s neck convulse, choking at the pressure. _“You will never touch my darling again.”_

And it would be so easy now, to just snap his neck. To be done with it all. He could watch the light fade from his eyes, feel his pulse slow, and stop. He could squeeze the remaining life out of him with minimal effort. It wouldn’t take anything. 

Dark feels a sudden jerk, ripping him out of his thoughts and away from Cry’s body. He sucks in a breath, stumbling back as Anti jostles him back to reality. 

“Don’t you dare kill him,” Anti growls, gripping the front of his jacket hard. “That is _a mhuirnín_ ’s job to do, don’t take this away from him.”

The tremors of anticipation ebb and flow within him, but Anti’s words register in his mind. Dark nods, and only now does he notice the smaller, softer form hovering by the doorway. Jules must’ve guided him in already--he just didn’t hear.

Jack looks so out of place in the room full of death and destruction and blood. Dark hadn’t even noticed Russ, dead with his neck twisted in the corner of the room. He doesn’t remember Anti coming in. Flexing his fingers, he jerks his head in a silent command, and with heavy steps, Jack approaches. 

Anti unfurls his fingers from Dark’s collar, and Dark reaches down to pick up his long abandoned gun. Holding it by the barrel, he hands it to him, and when Jack takes it with fingers too small for it, he turns his attention back to Cry.

“You make one move,” Dark promises lowly. “You make one move towards him, and I don’t care what he says, or what happens, I will kill you with my bare hands. Do you understand me?”

Cry smirks, and his face is as unsettling without a mask as with one. “I look forward to it. Let’s see how well you’ve taught him.” 

Gazing at him, Jack shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be standing above Cry, a gun in his hands, ready to shoot him. It doesn’t look right. He shouldn’t be here. 

Jack cocks the gun, precisely as Dark had taught him. It feels like it’s happening in slow motion, his movements sluggish, and Dark can see the gears turning in his head, trying to process what’s happening. When he does this, there will be no going back. He can’t rescind it. 

“You're playing a dangerous game, Jack,” Cry's voice oozes of something sick and twisted, nasally and off. “Killing me won't bring your mother back. Killing me won't make him love you.”

“It's not about him,” Jack's voice is small, hoarse. “It's never been about him. And you killed my mother.”

“It's always been about him,” Cry gives him a smile. “He’ll never love you, and somewhere deep down, you know he won’t. Not the way you want. If you pull the trigger, it's done. It's over. And you can’t pretend he will anymore. What did you get out of it?”

His hands are trembling, and Dark wishes he could go over there and snap Cry's neck, but he has to let Jack do this. If Jack doesn't get to land that killing blow, he'll never get to, and he'll regret it for the rest of his life.

“Remember all that time we spent together?” Cry says, his blue eyes dim. “Do you remember, Jack? How soft you were, how much you cried. Your body remembers that, doesn't it? It's why you can't shoot. You're afraid.”

“I don't need to be afraid,” he spits out. “You're going to die, and I'll never have to be afraid.”

“You can kill me,” Cry murmurs. “You can kill me, but you'll never get away from me. I'll always be there, ingrained into your mind. Infecting your every dream. You still dream of me, don't you? Of course. I will always come back for you.”

“Why?” Jack’s voice breaks and Dark thinks he may be close to having a full scale panic attack. He’s surprised the gun is still in his hands with the way he’s shaking. Jack’s not used to this. The first kill is always the worst. Not to mention Cry is likely his greatest nightmare come to life. “Why are you haunting me? Why _me_?”

Cry finally sits up from where he'd been laying down, his expression sickly and poisonous, his front teeth missing in a gruesome grin. Dark tenses, prepared to sock him back onto the ground. His nose is bleeding from where Dark had punched him, multiple times, earlier. “Because I want to.”

A sniffle causes Dark to look at Jack in earnest, watching the frustrated, angry tears well up in the corners of his eyes. He wants to shoot, Dark knows he does, but at the same time, he doesn’t. He wants the nightmare to be over, but they both know that shooting him won’t make it stop. 

“Did you think any of this was a mistake, a flaw?” Cry drawls out. He wipes at the blood on his nose. “The day I took you, Jack, I knew I was going to die. When I put my hands on you, when I made you cry, bleed, scream--I knew. Because you’re all so predictable. You act in patterns, in circles. I knew that you’d go back to him, you would get close again. And even now, he’s desperate to end your pain. Dark’s watching you, hoping you’ll pull the trigger, sponge away the wrong so you’ll go crawling back to him. And you will. I know how this story ends. Do it, Jack. Put a bullet right here.” 

He taps his chest, bony fingers wrapping on the skin, the ribs. “And see how far this shot, this death, really takes you. It won’t carry you where you want to be.” 

“ _A mhuirnín_ ,” Anti murmurs, against the tension in the room. “It’s time to end it. No more mind games. End it.” 

Taking a slow, even breath, Dark places his hand at Jack’s back, hopefully as a comfort. “He will never harm you again.” 

His throat bobs, swallowing deeply. Jack closes his eyes for a moment, before opening them. Raising his arms, his hands are still shaking as he squeezes the trigger, the click loud, the recoil sharp in the deafening silence. 

Dark counts five more shots before Jack drops the gun, and sinks to his knees. 

It’s done.


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When you said I still loved you,” Jack croaks out, his voice teetering on the edge of an emotion Dark can’t place. Perhaps happiness, perhaps fear. “You were right. I do. I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to preface this part by just--apologizing for my mediocre smut abilities. I thought a lot about why I put this part in, and I felt like given the nature of their relationship, it was an important scene to finally write out. They needed this. And also, it's sort of a treat for making you guys wait so long, haha.

| _"I commit the crime of wasting time, always trying to rhyme. Yes, I am guilty. But don't misunderstand me..."_ |

His knuckles are still busted up as they make the drive back, Jules’ cleanup crew already in motion towards making this incident nonexistent. 

Jules is nothing if not efficient. 

Dark carries gauze with him wherever he goes, mostly because he has a wicked temper and is known to strike out at anyone who pisses him off. It had been relatively easy to wrap up his bloody knuckles and tie it off, rendering the hand at least somewhat mobile for the drive back. 

Anti’s smoking again in the passenger seat, the window cracked, presumably for Jack’s comfort, but he can’t think of how many times he’s smoked with Jack in the car, with little regard to his concern about the smoke. Jack had always been free to roll down the window, after all. 

None of them have spoken since Jack dropped six shots into Cry, watching him bleed out with that damned snicker on his face, like everything fell into place. It pisses Dark off to no end to know that Cry knew Jack was going to kill him, that when he walked into that room, he knew he wasn’t walking out alive. He’s been robbed of the satisfaction of offing one of his largest rivals and enemies, and the thought itself makes him irritable at best, livid at worst. 

Jack had started crying once Cry was lifeless, soft tears rolling down his cheeks, dripping onto his hands. Dark had said nothing, and Anti had kneeled down, sitting next to him, as though imparting some sort of comfort that only brothers could, even though Jack has no idea of that at all. 

After twenty minutes--Dark had counted--Jules had come in over the earpiece, dictating that it was time to move out, his cleanup crew would be in soon. Anti had helped Jack to his feet, wiping the tears away with a dirty sleeve, before Jack had sucked in a breath, rendering his face emotionless, save for puffy eyes. Dark had picked up his gun and put it back into his belt, spitting on Cry’s body one last time before exiting with the other two. 

The walk back to the car had been long, tedious. Anti had a careful arm around Jack, and when they reached the vehicle he gently strapped him inside before taking his place in the passenger seat. Long stretches of road greet them now, a pregnant silence hanging over them, no one wanting to be the first to break it, for fear of breaking the tenuous calm in the aftermath of a ruthless murder. 

Somewhere down the highway, Anti finally speaks up, tossing his cigarette butt out the window. “Pull over.” 

Dark says nothing, but presses on the brakes, shifting the car onto the side, and into park. He sits back, glancing over at his partner with a mild interest. 

“I’m getting out here,” Anti declares, bold and brooking no room for argument. “I’ve got somewhere I want to be, and it’s not with you. All offense intended, I’ve had enough of you for a lifetime. I’ll see you around.” 

He thinks maybe he should say something along the lines of _be safe_ or _take care_ or even a reply of _see you around_ , but Dark can’t find that any are appropriate words for dealing with Anti. He knows without a doubt he will be seeing him again, his lineage to Jack a testament to that, but he lets Anti slam the door before disappearing into the darkness, and Dark had no doubt he will find his way and bring hell with him wherever he ends up. 

Once he’s gone, Dark switches gears and begins driving again, focusing on the road and not the young man in the backseat. 

It’s not the latest he’s ever returned home after a job, but he feels an immeasurable weight to it that few of his cases in the past have wrought upon him. He’s _tired_ , perhaps for the first time in a long time, and it’s not a good feeling, nor the kind that sleep can take away. 

When he arrives home, Jack’s the first one out of the car. He slams the door, harsh and loud, and he leans against the vehicle, holding himself. Dark thinks of touching him, but he’s not sure it would be welcome in light of everything. Never stopped him before, but there’s a first for everything, he supposes. 

Inside, he properly bandages his hand, cleaning up the sticky blood along his nose. He could greatly use a shower right now, but he has a sinking suspicion that Jack probably wants--and needs--one more than him at the given time. 

Upon exiting the bathroom, Jack’s standing awkwardly in the room, hovering. Now that he’s in proper lighting, Dark realizes that he looks pale, paler than normal, the beginnings of bags under his eyes, grey and heavy. With a wordless command, he gestures towards the bathroom, and Jack nods, scrubbing his fingers through his hair, the locks unkempt and curling, slightly. Jack brushes past him, closing the door gingerly behind him, and Dark tries to busy himself with literally anything but what has just occurred. 

Soon enough, he’s out, looking still to be as sullen as he’d been before he entered. Dark can offer no comfort for this, none at all, so popping the buttons of his collar, he takes his own turn in the shower, despite knowing the hot water is probably used up with the way Jack sulks in the spray. 

It’s well after two in the morning when Dark gets out, mostly sound of mind for the time being. Jack’s curled up on the bed, a glossy look in his eyes, and makes no move to get up when Dark approaches him. 

“Sleep,” Dark tells him, already pulling on the sheets to tuck him underneath. “Just go to sleep now.”

Jack nods, and Dark’s certain that before he leaves, he’s already out. 

~~

He doesn’t remember passing out on the couch, but he must’ve, to be awoken at the creak of the house, and what can only be presumed as Jack’s footsteps trying to get past him. 

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Dark’s sure he’s gotten the equivalent of a power nap when he looks upon Jack, frozen, as though knowing he’s awake now. Dark heaves out a sigh, before deciding to open this can of worms.

“What are you doing?” he asks, and it startles him just then, looking at him. He looks so tired, so small, and he’s the most similar to the Jack he met all those years ago, but he couldn’t be further from it. 

Jack smiles with absolutely no humor. “I’m going now.”

“It’s not even sunrise,” Dark counters. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“I can’t sleep anymore,” Jack rebuttals. “I just...can’t.”

“Then stare at the ceiling until the sun is up and I’ll drive you home,” Dark tells him. “You’re absolutely not leaving until morning.” 

Jack nods slowly, almost like he doesn’t register the information properly. Dark hoists himself to his feet, putting a gentle arm around his shoulder, guiding him back towards the bedroom. He goes without resistance, surprisingly. 

In the darkness of the room, Jack doesn’t look at him as he whispers out, “Did you mean it? When you called me your darling?” 

Perhaps Jack had come much sooner than he’d thought. 

Setting him down on the edge of the bed, Dark kneels in front of him, feeling more awakened by the minute. There’s so much about what happened that needs to be talked about, so much Cry said, but Dark knows he can’t go back now. None of them can ever go back to the way things were. He has to move forward. 

“Yes,” Dark says, when the question feels like it’s overdue. “You’ve always been.” 

Jack smiles again, and at least this time, he seems a little happy. He reaches his hand out, presumably to get a hold on him, but Dark takes his hand gently, testing the waters, kissing the knuckles, which only hours ago had been shaking. Only days ago had this gesture been unwelcome. He seems relieved by the contact.

“When you said I still loved you,” Jack croaks out, his voice teetering on the edge of an emotion Dark can’t place. Perhaps happiness, perhaps fear. “You were right. I do. I love you.” 

There’s an involuntary recoil at the words, but he feels something heavier with this declaration. Jack offers no lilt, no indication that he wants more of the words, and that makes them scarier, somehow. That he expects nothing in return, he just holds them out there, for the taking, to be left if he so chooses. 

Dark thinks out of everything, Cry had been wrong about one thing. For all his knowledge, he made one miscalculation. Patterns sometimes diverge. 

Using his bandaged hand, Dark pulls Jack forward, kissing him softly, chaste and sweet. He gazes up into his eyes, full of warmth and fear and adoration all in one, and Dark feels something in his chest, not for the first time. Something he’s always known, despite his protestations. 

“And I love you,” Dark murmurs, and the words aren’t as sticky, aren’t as bitter as he’d expected them to be. It’s almost a pleasant taste, much easier the second time as he says again, “I love you, Jack. I always have.” 

He knows he means it. 

Jack’s staring at him, eyes wide, as though he never anticipated those words, and it’s entirely possible he didn’t. Dark’s never been the man for these types of things, but Jack has always been his exception. 

The words hang there, and Jack finally seems to absorb them, processing them. He watches his throat bob, and he lets out a weird noise, the strangled cousin of crying and laughter before he croaks out, “You love me? You... _love_ me?” 

Tears begin to fall, and Dark wipes them away, silencing them before they can take a full hold of him. “Shh, darling. Yes, I do. Until the end of my days.” 

“I can’t tell if I’m dreaming or not,” Jack starts laughing, voice strained. He grabs at Dark, pulling him closer, and Dark obliges by kissing him again, sloppy and without finesse. Somehow, it’s great. “Don’t wake me up, okay? Just let me have this.” 

There’s something sad to the words, so forlorn that comes to realize the damage he’s wrought over the years. He can’t take it back, and he wouldn’t want to, but he’ll settle for this moment, right now. 

“You can have me,” he tells him.

Dark coaxes Jack up the bed, his hands not leaving him for a moment, running up his thighs, settling on his waist. It’s not even properly morning yet, but he wants to relearn every inch of Jack that he’s forgotten these last few weeks, what feels like months, years. There’s little light but he feels a gravitational pull that only Jack can give him, and he intends to utilize every bit of it.

Without prompt, Jack opens his legs, splayed apart to accommodate him. He settles there, feeling the warmth that he radiates as Dark leans in, kissing him harder, heavier, tasting him. Jack’s arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, hips slotting together, and the younger whines at the contact, wrapping his fingers into Dark’s hair. 

“You’re alright,” Dark murmurs against his skin, pressing bruises into his hips. He dips his head down lower, nipping at the warm skin of his neck, a canvas waiting to be marked. “I’ve got you, darling.” 

Jack’s fingers are already pulling at his shirt, seemingly engrossed in the task at hand, twisting and tugging. Dark bites him in warning, sucking a mark as Jack lets out another soft whine, and Dark takes a moment to pull away to rid himself of his t-shirt, deciding to rip off the bandages around his knuckles as well before returning to his partner. 

“I need you to lie here,” Dark says against his skin, tugging his shirt aside to kiss the dip of his collarbone. “Can you do that for me? Can you lie here while I make you feel good?” 

His boy tugs his lower lip into his mouth. Even in the darkness, Dark can see he’s already flushed in the face, breathless from just a little kissing, but after a moment he nods, letting out a low sigh. Dark kisses him in reward, drawing his lips from between his teeth and then along the hollow of his throat, pushing up his shirt with his hands. 

Dark moves his lips to Jack’s stomach, delighting in the way he squirms slightly, a soft snicker resonating in the room. His boy’s always been ticklish, and tonight’s no different as he presses soft, feather-light kisses along hair of his stomach, down to the waistband of the sweatpants Dark had left on the bathroom sink for him and his boxers. Hooking his fingers under the soft material, he gives them a firm tug, sliding the garments down his hips, and Jack shivers in anticipation, cock glistening in the light. 

His garments tossed, he runs his fingers over Jack’s thighs, raking his nails along the sides, purposely avoiding his cock, hard against his abdomen. Jack lets out an impatient huff, pulling him down for another needy kiss, hooking his ankle around the small of Dark’s back, ushering him closer. Dark snickers, biting his lip, murmuring a soft warning to be patient. 

He takes his time roaming his lips over Jack’s neck, biting and sucking, enjoying the way the skin reddens and purples under his ministrations, the soft quiet whimpers and whines that escapes his boy. He sounds so pretty, desperate and beautiful and he wants it all, he wants to hear every sound that Jack can make. This isn’t the first time he’s had Jack, and this won’t be the last, but there’s something more intimate about this time around, and he intends to savor every second of it. 

“Be as loud as you want,” Dark tells him, finally wrapping a hand around his cock, giving the shaft a long, slow tug. “Every noise, every gasp, every whine--I want it all, alright? Give that to me. Let me hear you.” 

And sure enough he does, crying out, his back arching, thrusting his hips upwards into Dark’s closed fist. It’s a little awkward at first, the contact dry, but Dark swipes his thumb over the slit, smoothing precome down his cock, and Jack lets out another high-pitched whine. It’s so entrancing how quickly he’s wound up by a hand on him, the way touching him makes him sing. It’s always been the way, even when he was sixteen and didn’t have an ounce of stamina to him. 

Dark breaks away from him for a moment to reach into the bedside table, soaking in Jack’s labored breathing as he pops the cap of the lube, squeezing a generous amount onto his fingers before wrapping them back around his member, twisting his wrist in just the right way to coax another low, desperate groan from his boy. 

He keeps that steady rhythm up for a little while, teetering him in and out of pleasure, before finally Jack gives an irritated huff. Grabbing Dark’s wrist, Jack’s blue eyes blaze as he loops his fingers through the belt of Dark’s jeans, hissing out, _“Off.”_

Amused by the younger’s command, Dark shucks off his jeans, his cock springing free from their confinement. His dick is hard, flushed red and glistening at the tip, and Jack swallows. There’s a wordless request, but Dark shakes his head, and Jack lets out another little snort of irritation. 

“If you don’t put your goddamn fingers in me,” Jack groans out, tossing his shirt at him with frustration, “I swear I’m going to get up right now and finish myself off in the bathroom.” 

Dark ducks his head, shaking his head at the pure, unbridled spite Jack radiates. Reaching for the lube again, he coats his fingers, grabbing Jack’s leg and folds it against his chest. He presses a gentle kiss to the bend of his knee, and without being asked, Jack slides his hands down his own thighs, holding them in place while Dark teases his rim, leaning forward to swallow the complaints before finally pushing his finger inside. 

It’s familiar, this tug and pull, the way Jack responds so eagerly to being filled. His hands move from his thighs to Dark’s back, creating crescent indentations against his shoulder blades, raking his nails down the expanses of his back. He’s full of soft moans and gentle whines, begging for more, fucking down on his fingers like he can’t get enough. It’s entrancing the way he shifts so quickly between emotions. Only moments ago, he’d been smarmy, demanding and harsh, but now he’s putty, perfectly pliable to any desire Dark has. His chest heaves with a sense of need, tugging at the locks of his black hair. Within minutes, Dark inserts a second finger, scissoring them apart. 

“Talk to me,” Dark orders, sinking his fingers in knuckle deep, fingers pressing down on that spot inside him. He grazes his lips down his chest, leaving a map in his wake, of stories to be told in the morning, a reminder that this boy is his, and always will be. He bites his nipple at the same moment he presses down on his prostate, and the answering wail of his name makes his own cock drip. “Tell me how it feels.” 

“Don’t stop,” Jack pants, barely able to get the words out before Dark’s adding a third, and picking up the pace, his fingers slipping in and out with a slick sound, Jack’s grip on his hair sending shivers down his spine. He pulls his fingers out altogether, and Jack sobs, before he pushes them back in. “Dark, Dark, _Dark_ \--fuck! Fuck, stop--stop with the teasing. Please--please just--!”

“Hmm?” Dark hums, slowing his movements, pumping his fingers in and out torturously, kissing away the tears pricking at the corner of Jack’s eyes. “You have to tell me what you want, sweetheart.” 

Jack opens his bright blue eyes, soft and fond, blown with lust. His cheeks are stained red, flushing down his throat, towards his chest, his skin littered with bites and hickies, bruises decorating his hips. He knows Jack will be a sight tomorrow morning, his own personal statue of divinity, and he thinks of how goddamn lucky he is, suddenly. To have Jack like this, putting his implicit trust within him. Never has there been a moment where Jack didn’t know who he was and what he did, and he saw Dark only hours ago, covered in blood, murdering an organization and razing it down to hell, and he’s still here, with an open heart and he’s stupid, so stupid but he’s _Dark’s_.

He’s brought back to reality when Jack pats at his cheek, silently asking for attention with Dark gladly gives to him. They kiss hungrily, teeth clacking together--Dark tastes copper and Jack’s tongue soothes away the burn, and he presses the request against his lips, rasping out, _“Fuck me.”_

Withdrawing his fingers, Dark grabs the lube he’d tossed aside earlier, using the contents to finally touch his aching cock. He gives himself a few quick strokes, the most attention he’s given himself since this began, glancing down at Jack who’s panting, sweat glistening on his skin, beading on his forehead. Once he’s slicked up, Dark anchors a hand at Jack’s hip, bracing the other beside Jack’s head as he pushes in. 

Dark swears he can feel Jack’s pulse, rapid and sharp against his skin as he eases his way in, and he can hear his own blood boiling with the urge to move faster. Jack chokes, gripping Dark’s bicep with an iron grip, his vocabulary boiling down to a stream of _please_ and _oh god_ and _dark dark dark_. 

Once he’s all the way in, he stalls, allowing for Jack to adjust, for a moment silence falling between them, save for the erratic heave of Jack’s chest, and the thrumming heartbeat of his own. After a moment, Jack shifts, indicating with a shaky nod that he wants more, and Dark’s only here to please him. He pulls out just enough to slide back in, a slow movement before he picks up speed, and he knows he’s done his job when Jack writhes, arching off the bed, his hand flailing for something, anything to ground him.

With a tender motion, Dark laces their fingers together, pinning his hand down beside him. Jack’s free hand reaches up, clawing at the skin of his neck once again, yanking his head down for another sloppy kiss. Dark mouths at his jawline, Jack’s legs crossing around the small of his back, spurning him on. 

“Oh god, oh god, _fuck_ ,” Jack keens, letting out a stream of sobs with every thrust Dark makes on his prostate. “Fuck, fuck, I love you, I love you so much, _please_ \--”

Whatever request dies on his lips, Dark slowing the steady rhythm he’d built up. Jack’s a gorgeous wreck beneath him, hair sticking to his forehead, eyes wet, lashes fluttering. His eyes have never looked brighter, his pale skin glowing in the dim light, lips bitten cherry red. He’s so fucking beautiful, so fucking perfect, and he’s everything to Dark, he really is. He lavishes messy kisses against his collarbone, across his shoulders, pistoning his hips leisurely, immortalizing the heat wrapped around his own dick, and this isn’t like their normal sex, not even their slow sex. 

Jack’s not the same boy he met at the nightclub all that time ago, but he’s damn glad of it, because what he’s holding right now, what he has right now, means more to him than any pitiful memory. All these years he’s been running away from a feeling that’s been so ingrained within him, that’s simmered deep within him and he can’t run anymore. He’s not sure he wants to. 

“And I love you,” Dark reaffirms, half to himself, half to Jack, resuming his normal pace. Jack sings a perfect tune, his throat trashed by now, but it’s beautiful all the same. At this rate, he won’t last long, but he’s never cared about anymore more in his entire life than this release. “Whatever you want, I’ll give you.” 

They kiss again and again, as though they can’t get enough, drinking in the sensation. Heat pools at the base of his cock, and he knows he’s close. Dark reaches between them and strokes at Jack’s erection, swallowing down the groan from the younger. 

“Come with me, alright?” Dark punctuates the sentence with a pop, pressing his thumb onto the slit of his cock, and Jack twists against him, a violent jerk. “Just like that baby.” 

Jack lets out a laugh that may also be a cry, mixed together as Dark fucks him hard, jerking him off as he does so. He’s pushing himself back against Dark’s cock with every thrust, desperate for release, his voice guttural. He’s so needy, so wild for a thing only Dark can provide, and he wants to give him everything in this moment, knowing there’s not a damn thing in the world he would deny him. Dark murmurs into his ear, his breath ghosting over the shell, full of promises he fully intends to keep.

“You’re so gorgeous like this,” he kisses his cheekbone, before moving back to nip at his earlobe. “So beautiful, baby. You’re mine, all mine, and I love you for it.” 

Part of him wishes he could say _I love you_ once for every time he should’ve, but didn’t. But the number is astronomical at best, and Dark knows he’ll never be able to fully make up for the time he hasn’t said it, and he knows there’s no point in trying. All Dark can do is immortalize it now, press each word into his skin, a tattoo of his affection, for him and only him. 

“Yours,” Jack breathes, nodding his head like the word alone isn’t enough, like his whole body trembling beneath him isn’t a testament to that. He smiles, then, eyes glossy but breathtaking, seemingly using all the oxygen within him as he says again, “Yours.” 

Soon enough, with another twist of his wrist and a sharp thrust, Jack’s coming, spurts of white come decorating his chest and covering Dark’s hand. He tightens around Dark and he nearly chokes at the feeling, the sight of his boy falling apart sending him over too, finally letting loose into what feels like oblivion. 

Once Dark’s spent, he heaves a huge sigh, letting his head fall onto the crook between Jack’s neck and shoulder. He slides out, collapsing there, sweaty and hot and smeared with come, but he can’t work up the energy to give a single fuck whatsoever. Jack doesn’t seem to mind being squished by his larger frame, mindlessly twirling his finger through Dark’s hair, breathing in and out. He can feel the younger’s heartbeat, loud and clear and perfectly alive, a beautiful sound in tandem with his labored breathing. They’re both riding through the high of an orgasm, one they haven’t shared together in months, and it’s bliss.

They don’t speak for a long time, but soon enough, Dark pushes himself up and towards the bathroom, leaving the light off as he fumbles around for a rag. He washes his hands off and wets the rag down before returning, easing onto the bed as he wipes the come from Jack’s stomach and thighs and chest. 

Jack doesn’t speak as he does this, just shifting every so often every time Dark taps him. After he’s finished, he gingerly raises Jack’s legs up and tucks them beneath the sheets, watching him roll onto his side, settling into the warmth, despite how flushed he still appears to be. Sliding in next to him, Dark sighs, the earlier fatigue catching up with him, and he thinks that now he could use some sleep above anything. 

Nevertheless, he’s staring at the ceiling when he feels Jack’s hands, pawing at him, and he rolls over without thinking, snaking an arm out to wrap around him. He’s still fucking hot as hell, but when Jack curls into him, he doesn’t care, pressing a kiss to the crown of his hair. 

“If this is a dream,” Jack murmurs, voice raw and docile. “If this is a dream...please. Please don’t wake me up.” 

Dark strokes the back of his head gently, trying to impart comfort, to plant the promises right there, with his fingertips. Whether he has fifty years or five days left, he intends to spend every minute with Jack, and he’s not going anywhere, even if he wanted to. 

“You don’t have to wake up,” Dark hums, and something bursts in his chest, not uncomfortable, pleasant. “But when you do, I’ll be right here. Always.”

Jack smiles against his skin, and it’s the last thing Dark registers before falling asleep, his boy wrapped in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end! There will be one more part :)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Please feel free to chat with me over on my tumblr! My new url is voidskelly.tumblr.com, and I'd love to hear from you!
> 
>  **AND** Thank you all so much for sticking with the series! It's been a beautiful joy to write for you all, and I'm so eternally grateful for you being here. It means so much more than you could ever know.


End file.
